You Always Knew
by vievere
Summary: The Doctor was the only one to ever manage to surprise her, but this was intangibly unthinkable. The Doctor in a papoose. With a baby. The night before her trial.
1. Part 1

**You Always Knew**  
><strong>By: vievere<strong>  
><strong>Part 1 of 3<strong>

X . x . X.

Tomorrow River Song would go on trial for murder and would either go out in a burst of electricity through her veins or be locked into a prison cell for the rest of her days. Neither of the two was altogether pleasant to think about, but River at least hoped the Doctor would somehow be able to interfere and return the favor of saving his life by saving her own. He owed her a favor, after all. Ten, to be exact.

Her father had always said she would end up in prison one day. For once, she really hoped he was right.

She felt exhausted and raw, her spirit worn and half-shattered after hours of questioning by gruff, angry investigators who hated her because she had killed their boyhood hero. Tomorrow was her trial, where she would undoubtedly be charged with murder. After all, she had plead guilty and admitted with fraught tears to killing him. River Song was an excellent, excellent actress. Years of living a lie in Leadworth had taught her to manage through and convincingly concoct every lie. It was no trouble playing the distressed assassin, guilty at the blood on her hands.

She knew the Silence must have been there. She hadn't had a marker, but she could see the clear red scratches in small lines which crossed all over her arms; scratches she recognized because she didn't remember creating them. Thirty-seven marks. And so she'd sobbed and said she didn't want to do it and told them she couldn't stop it, that she had to do it. She was programmed to.

River had said it wasn't her fault, while admitting she did it. An admission of responsibility with enough desperation and guilt in her tone to make the Silence think she was heartbroken and distressed by what she had allegedly done. Otherwise, they would be suspicious. They knew she loved him, Kovarian had taunted her with it, and a silent and resolute resignation would only have made them suspicious.

For awhile she forgot she was innocent, falling into character and losing her touch on the truth she would take to her own death. She may have come off a bit mad. Desperate and wild and guilt stricken and out of control. But that might have been catalyzed by the bright lights and tallies and the knowledge that at one time she had killed him. The guilt was there. The idea of the Doctor being dead, which they constantly flung in her face, made it all the easier to play the part. And with hot tears and sobbing and thrashing movements, she had convincingly conveyed the character she was meant to play.

She had convinced them all. River Song was dangerous and guilty, distraught and unhinged by her crime. They didn't suspect the truth, to her relief. She hoped the show had been good enough for the Silence, for Kovarian.

And now she was in Stormcage.

How long had it been since time had spun all at once around them, as they fasted their hands and she saw into his eyes? Hours, days? How much time as passed since time had started? She hadn't the faintest idea, her memory bleached out by white, clinical interrogation rooms and emotional torture as she force fed lies that broke her.

River was mostly sure she hadn't really killed the Doctor. No, no, she was sure. She hadn't, no, that's why she turned herself in. She hadn't really killed him, it just appeared that way. But she'd said so many times she had killed him, the fiction of the lie was beginning to seep out of her exhausted brain. But no, she hadn't killed him this time. He was alive, safe. Alive, alive, alive.

The thought made her smile into the rough, thin fabric of the pillow she'd been given when they'd locked her in the cold, bare holding cell. She was alone and could think, finally able to sort out her truths and her lies.

She hadn't killed him. She had stopped time. She loved him. And he had married her. Why? She couldn't begin to understand. A dying Doctor had told her years ago, on his last breath, that he had loved River Song. And she was River Song now. Did he love her? Like she loved him? It didn't matter, she decided. She'd given him everything. Her lives, her hearts, her childhood, her freedom, her future. What did it matter if he felt the same? So long as he came for her, so long as he forgave her. Always and completely.

Her thoughts were almost in perfect order and clarity when she began to drift. The wisps of a dream about Amy traveling around in a life-sized version of the handmade, cardboard TARDIS Mels had helped her paint had just begun to shape when she was startled awake by the most horrid and most magnificent sound she had ever heard.

The TARDIS. He'd come for her. She had both been expecting him to save her and abandon her, with neither side having a definitive lead over the other. But if she had expected him at all, it had not been then.

River bolted off the mattress, taking the two steps to the metal bars and clutching them tightly as the bright blue box materialized outside her cell. He had come for her. That action was enough to set her right, bringing happy wetness to her eyes that she had to blink away. Before she had time to take a breath of much needed life into her lungs, the TARDIS door had flown open.

He stepped out and she was astounded by the sight, lit up in warm orange light.

She was greeted by the most unexpected of sights. And she had never, ever been this surprised in her life.

The Doctor. In a papoose. With a baby.

"You have a baby." It slipped out, the disbelief making its way to her tongue as her brain struggled to accept the image. She was never surprised, not ever. The Doctor was the only one to ever manage the emotion out of her, but this was intangibly unthinkable. The Doctor in a papoose. A baby. Arriving the night before her trial. With a baby, of all things.

What?

"River?" he sounded anxious, halting at the door of the TARDIS when he realized where he was. He looked around, head whipping back and forth. He made a face, "Oh dear, this isn't Amy's house." He looked down at the baby, then back at River, managing a small, distracted grin. "Yes, well. Nice to see you, love!"

The Doctor struggled out of the papoose and River feared for a moment the baby would fall out, but then he tossed the thing aside and held the baby. He hurried towards her cell, unlocking it and disabling the alarm with a flick of his sonic screwdriver. The action was quick, quick enough to make River think he had done it many, many times before. The Doctor quickly strode close to her and held the baby out to her, like she was supposed to know what to do with it.

"Yes, well, I have to run." He held the baby out towards her, transferring it over into her unexpecting arms, "Here, have a baby." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the baby's forehead, then River's, startling her infinitely.

The entire scene was too strange. And she had no established response to it.

"What?" she choked out, unwittingly accepting the bundle as she stared, wide eyed, from him to the baby. A tiny little face, a frowsy patch of red hair, a sweet little nose, surprisingly inquisitive eyes, blue outfit and ducks on its socks. River had never held a baby, or been around one, before. Not once. And she was holding one. Why was she holding a baby? A why, for god's sake, had the Doctor handed it to her?

A blaring alarm went off from the black and orange handheld computer strapped on his wrist. He startled, as did the baby, and looked down at the device, "Oh! I have to go. Your turn to babysit. Be back in a flash. Gotta go do dangerous stuff, save a world. Xebsla, very dangerous, not a place for babies."

He paused, evidently worried she would be cross with him, "Well, it _was_ very baby friendly. I swear! Nice parks, brilliant parks we were going to play in! With baby slides! Amy said he's too young for slides, even baby slides, but I think it would be okay. And you're okay with it, I'm sure." He lightly touched the baby's forehead and grinned fondly at it before turning his eyes up sheepishly at her, "But then the grouchy frog lady protesters came and decided they'd like to blow up the planet because they may have cut down a forest or ten and stolen some metal from some mines or something to build said parks. Didn't even get to go down one baby slide! But anyway. Need to disable a bomb. Be back in five minutes."

He turned around and scurried out of the cell, like he was afraid of some rage, leaving River awkwardly holding the infant as he spun back and flicked the cell closed. She gasped in a breath, clutching the child closer to her out of fear of dropping it and fearing him leaving her alone, in a prison, with a stranger's baby.

She watched him head back to the TARDIS in alarm, then found her voice, crying out desperately, "Wait! Why do you have a baby with you? Why do I need to care for it? When will you be back?"

The Doctor halted, freezing his fast pace. He seemed to tense, then looked back at her. He observed the awkward way she held the child, his face changing from fear of a scolding to realization that he had really, really messed up. He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at the TARDIS as he pressed a hand to the door. He let out a frustrated sound and glared at the blue, hitting his head once on the door, "REALLY, wrong River. Not helpful, dear. Not at all."

River realized he meant to take this baby to a different her. An older her. And he wasn't surprised to see her in prison, that was good. So lifelong sentence seemed to be the verdict for tomorrow. It also meant she must somehow know this child in the future. And the Doctor trusted her with it, that was good. Trust was always good. Her tired mind spun, trying to grasp at comprehension, unable to lead her thoughts further as she recessed back into the single thought, "What?"

The Doctor looked at her carefully, cautiously getting closer to her and the locked cell. "How early is this for you?" He looked at the empty cell, the unsure and confused River, and blanched when he realized.

"Oh, this is very, very not good. Not good, not good, not good." He made a face, paced towards her, and then the alarm on his wrist went off again. He made an annoyed squeak, looking frantically between the TARDIS and River and his handheld with its alarm and the now-whining baby. It would be comical, the way his focus shifted, if River wasn't so utterly lost and frightened by the baby's small whimpers.

"Gah, I have to go, now. No time. Narrow window of safety…" he trailed off, looking at her and the baby, "I'm so very sorry, River. I didn't mean to…" He gulped and walked slowly backwards, "But I've got to go. But I'll be right back. And I'll make this up to you, I swear. Just please watch him for a little while."

He reached into the inner pocket of his tweed, withdrawing what looked like a piece of white, geometrical plastic. He tossed it at her through the bars, and was mildly impressed when she caught it with catlike, unconscious reflex, despite her hands being filled with baby. He watched her drop it on the mattress, jaw flexing as he forced out, "Take this, perception filter. It'll keep the guards from noticing the little one. Very handy. And I am very sorry, dear."

And then he was gone. Retreating from the situation he had just created.

River had never before even been around a baby. She looked down at the tiny creature with dread, fear etched onto every line of her face. What if she dropped it? What if the perception filter didn't work? What was his name? Where did he come from? Who did he belong to? Her thoughts went to Amy. Hadn't he mentioned her? Perhaps this was her little brother. Or maybe the child of someone he was saving. Unlikely, but she didn't know.

The baby made unhappy gurgles at her.

_Mum?_

She almost jumped, shocked at the telepathic brush with the soft, warm bundle in her arms.

My god, did she speak baby?

She was going mad. But no, she knew a psychic transfer when she observed one. On some life forms, it was often easy to tell what a person was thinking. Even with Amy and Rory, she'd occasionally been able to accidentally catch traces of thought through touch telepathy. A bit of the Time Lady in her. The baby couldn't form words, per say, but the feelings conveyed sent a clear message that seemed to translate it's thoughts from wordless impressions into English. She did speak baby.

_Mummy?_

"No, I'm not your mum."

_You don't smell like mummy. And mummy holds me different._

She got the impression that she was supposed to hold him more on her hip, less stiffly held with a hand clutched around it. The baby seemed to fit snugly in the new position, and made a happy gurgle.

"Better, love?" she cooed, too tired and confused to really question why she seemed to like the feeling of the infant in her arms. It was odd, a new sensation. Comforting. It filled her with something, an emotion she was too mystified to find a name for.

_Where is daddy and mummy? The blue box?_

"I don't know, sweetie." She grazed her fingers lightly down the soft skin of the round cheeks, pressing a kiss to the baby's head. He liked that, she sensed. She bit back how pleased that made her and promised in a lyrical, soft tone she'd never heard herself use before, "But when the Doctor gets back, he'll sort you all out and get you back home. The TARDIS is with him. Do you like the TARDIS? You seem to. You think it's warm and very blue and happy and safe. Me too."

A tired smile touched her lips, "I'm talking to a baby. A baby, oh dear. I am just as bad as him. Said he spoke baby, according to Amy. And I suppose I do, too."

The baby didn't seem to comprehend her replies, she noticed, so she supposed she didn't truly speak baby. She just understood baby. What a liar, he probably didn't speak baby either. Nonsense, he simply just read its small thoughts and feelings, interpreting them any which way he chose. Like she was doing. Oh, she was just as bad as him.

_Where did they go? Who are you?_

"The Doctor is saving people right now, but he'll be back for you soon and will take you where you're supposed to be, I promise. My name's Melody Pond." She used the long dormant name, feeling more like this little ginger must be her brother. He had to be a Pond, the Doctor wouldn't be able to resist a baby Pond. He was ginger, as much of a red-head as her mother. And surely Amy, in all her faith, would somehow, stupidly convince Rory to let the Doctor babysit. Not a smart choice, really, but she could picture it. She was almost certain, really, this was a Pond. Her little brother. She continued talking to the boy, her voice a sweet lull, "Are you a Pond too, little one?"

The baby whined and she didn't know what he wanted. She hummed, pressing a kiss to the boy's soft forehead. They stayed like that for minutes, River observing the red hair and brain contemplating a thousand things. The baby's eyes began to droop, and she instinctively shifted him to cradle the boy in her arms.

"You're so precious." She whispered out, truly surprised by how natural it felt to hold the little child. She felt a kinship to him and with one-hundred percent certainty, she knew this was a descendent of the Ponds. Amy and Rory held this baby, loved it like they would have loved her. She was happy for them, for her parents that never got to be parents and were now given the chance. As the she gentle rocked the infant in her arms, the baby drifting to sleep, her mind played a cruel trick on her.

**You'll never be a mother. You'll never get to rock your own child like this.**

The thought made her stop rocking, her hearts seeming to stop in their peaceful beats. The thought struck deep, sending a metallic chill through every cell of her body. River felt desolate and horrified at the idea, and this very response built a surprise in her once the bitter pain shifted to her belly. She'd never once thought about having children. It never crossed her mind, truly. She was trained not to consider things like that, the domestic, and not to want it. And she had only just got married, rather suddenly, in a ceremony that probably didn't even count. And the Doctor. She wasn't sure what she meant to him or where they were headed. But oh, the Doctor's child. That would be something wonderful, something brilliant. A little face like his, in her arms.

She wanted that. More than anything.

That startling realization brought tears into her eyes, because it was abundantly clear that was simply impossible. They weren't biologically compatible, she was too human. And she would be in prison then, wouldn't she? And he wouldn't want that life, would he? He had a family in the past he'd lost, she knew about Susan. She knew about his countless, meaningless marriages that dotted across history and the planets. He'd lost his family, the only one that counted, in the Time War. He was done with all that, very done. And it was too domestic, too human.

And why would he want to have kids with her? A psychopath willing to tear all of time apart for one man. She was unstable. Not mother material. She couldn't keep anything alive, not a plant or a fish. In her home economics class, the one she'd taken with Rory, she'd broken the egg and the plastic baby doll they'd been given within hours. She didn't have a motherly bone in her body, didn't know how to nurture. She'd never really grown up with a mum, she didn't know a thing about children.

And even if he did love her, how could he want kids with her? Why would he want to have River Song be the father of his children?

She'd never hold her own baby.

River Song closed her eyes tightly, the inevitable conclusion tearing her apart. Like the final straw. A day full of accusations and glares and hating herself and endless questions and lies. Loving him, tearing apart the universe for him, wanting him to love her with at least a fraction of one of his hearts. And now this, a broken dream she never realized she had.

A silent sob broke through, tears spilling down her cheeks, and the baby in her arms, her little brother, suddenly felt like a heavy burden.

X . x . X.


	2. Part 2

**You Always Knew**  
><strong>By: vievere<strong>  
><strong>Part 2 of 3<strong>

X . x . X.

The Doctor arrived, relatively, inconspicuously. He had used the blue boringers because he was a bit scared of what he would find outside the TARDIS and because there was the chance that baby might be asleep and he didn't want to wake him.

He was pleased to see he had actually, for once, arrived on time. Only five minutes from when he had left. Really, a record for him. He was never on time. Except when the TARDIS wanted him to be, and he supposed now was one of those times.

He must have really screwed things up. But then he remembered it was the blue box's fault anyway, not his. He adjusted his singed bow tie, muttering as he smoothed his soot covered hair back, "Really, dear, you get me in the worst messes. I can't imagine why you'd want to cause this much of a ruckus. It's going to be a very hard clean up job. All I wanted was to take the little one to the park."

The Time Lord made a petulant face, picking up a small, blue elephant toy from the consul and complaining aloud, "And you always fly to wherever River wants you to go. All she has to say is 'oh, I do feel like visiting a 31st century shoe store today' and bam, we arrive. I can't even go to my yoga lessons without arriving in a warzone on Varuno or, worse, Amy's baby shower."

He tucked the blue elephant into his bigger-on-the-inside pockets and darkly commented as he swiftly jumped down the stairs to the door, "You play favorites."

With that he carefully pushed the door open, timidly peaking his head out. He wasn't quite sure what he would find and he was cautious in approaching the disaster he had just created. He expected, if he expected anything at all, a surprised and maybe thrilled River. After all, he had pushed the very best of spoilers into her arms.

The Doctor froze when he saw her, at first only noticing how she cradled the littlest addition to the Pond family. A grin touched his lips, warmth he was well accustomed to feeling spreading through his chest. He caught himself thinking, not for the first time, that River was a natural. Even this young.

River must have_ always_ known.

This was just the beginning of them for her and he had already mucked it up. Or the TARDIS had, either way. He never realized she had been cued in so early.

So River had always known she would be a mother.

That explained a lot. It made perfect, perfect sense now, though he hadn't even had an inkling of it beforehand. Such was the way with River Song and her spoilers. It explained why, when they had first found out she was pregnant, she hadn't been truly surprised. Overjoyed, but not astonished and floored as he had been. He had always assumed it was because of some pregnancy-mothery-intuition-thingy, but perhaps not. He had ruined the surprise before their honeymoon! He was an idiot. Of course she knew, of course she had always known.

So many things made sense now, really. How she had known immediately it was a boy. Why she had teased him endlessly about how his child would be a ginger, even when she hardly had a baby bump to show. That cheat! That's why she was so happy and unconcerned when he picked her up their first night, why she had seemed to be positively radiant despite a lengthy prison sentence. She knew all along where they were leading, where she would someday be.

River always got the good spoilers. Why was he always left with the unhappy ones? Unfair. He was glad for her, though. River, out of the two of them, always seemed to have the least to look forward to. She was the one who had to sleep on a prison cot and lie through her teeth, the whole universe blaming her for his supposed murder. It must not have looked like a bright future to the younger River, who didn't know what was going to happen next or when he might show up. She had no way of knowing he would be there, every step of the way, and that despite what the universe may think, she only made him more alive.

It took him much longer than it should have to realize she was crying, especially since once he realized it he could feel palpable waves of sorrow rolling off her. The Doctor was pouting when he first heard her sob and noticed the wetness of her cheeks. He stepped forward out of the TARDIS immediately, then drew back to observe in silent horror. River crying! Why was River crying? Was she unhappy about what she had learned? Did she not want to be a mother yet? He felt the absolute broken sadness that radiated off her, stunned and baffled by her reaction, which was not at all what he expected. He didn't have the faintest idea why she was crying. It didn't make sense.

And he hated it when she cried. And he didn't want their son to wake up and see. And River was in pain. He had to appear now, though she would hate him for catching her in such a state. She didn't like looking weak, even to him, and that was especially true of the younger River. He hurriedly unlocked and disarmed her cell, softly stepping to her. She hadn't heard him approach. Unthinkable, River was always aware, always sharply coherent.

And she didn't even sense him? This was bad, very bad.

"River?" he tried softly, the lightest of touches ghosting over her jaw, his fingers catching the water there. The Doctor felt River stiffen, finally noticing him, but she didn't open her eyes. He peaked at his son, nestled in comfortably in her arms and fast asleep. When he looked up, concerned, he caught wild green eyes.

"Hello sweetie." River murmured, the greeting tinged with a hollow composure. He could tell she was trying to be calm, like she didn't have tear tracks across her skin and like she wasn't swallowing her sadness. She was hiding from him, being strong for him, even when she was breaking. But why was she breaking? It didn't make sense.

"River, River, what's wrong?" he cupped her face, brushing wet tracks away and searching her eyes, his touch telepathy conveying his concern to her. She stepped back, breaking contact, when she felt his conscious brush with hers. Her eyes shifted to the infant and he could see her quiver. He stared, confused and slightly hurt by her pain and her unwillingness to share it.

She didn't say a word. And that didn't sit right with him.

"River, is it about him?" The Doctor asked slowly, dreading an affirmative response, as he motioned to the baby. The most important child in the universe, the dearest thing to his hearts and her own. Hardly four and a half months old.

"He's absolutely wonderful." She whispered, a wisp of a smile touching the corners of her mouth. She drew her fingertips lightly through the soft fluff of red hair with one of the hands that held him, careful to not disrupt his sleep.

"Then why are you crying?" he questioned, stepping closer to place a hand on her waist, "You're right. He's wonderful and brilliant and beautiful and so very, very special. Why are you sad, River Song? Is this too much? I'm sorry, truly, for the spoiler. But it's nothing to be sad over. Quite the opposite, really. I can assure you, future you is very, very, very fond of this little one."

She inhaled a breath, her eyes free of tears but her unhappiness still clear.

"I should be proud to be related to him, I know. And he's got Amy's hair." Her lips trembled, something he had never seen before. This was bad, very bad. Now she was hiding away, retreating and covering her tracks. Pretending she wasn't sad. But she was, he could feel it. Feel it, mixed with some underlying fear. She continued, looking down at the baby with soft eyes and cradling him closer, "Amy and Rory must be very happy."

He didn't confirm this, instead touching his son's sock-covered toes and answering in a whisper, "They are, I suppose? And I'm happy. Very, very happy. Why aren't you happy?"

"I am. I'm happy for them. They didn't get to raise me, but they get him now."

The Doctor was lost and he wasn't following her train of thought at all. Amy and Rory were nice and all, but that was preposterous. He wasn't giving his son up for the world. He would hardly let him out of his sight, he adored him too much to go for more than a day without seeing him. Too afraid to miss a memory, too afraid he would miss out on some important baby development. His little Time Lord was, obviously, meant to be raised in the TARDIS. Not in Leadworth, of all places. Absurd!

"Amy and Rory are not raising him." he declared with a huff, looking at her suspiciously, "Why would they be?"

She seemed genuinely surprised, standing up straighter as her brows knitted together in a frown, "Why not?"

"Surely you don't think we'd just let him go?" He grinned at the absurdity, laughing lightly through the thick tension, "Impossible. He belongs with us. Obviously."

River made a disapproving face he couldn't even begin to make sense of and looked almost angry with him. Her eyes burned, a sharp intensity cutting through the watery sadness. She challenged him vehemently, "He belongs with his parents, Doctor!"

"Well of course he does, River." He replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. That was what he was saying, clearly, she had no reason to get upset about it. The infant squirmed, and the Doctor, realizing they were being a bit too loud, lowered his voice as he continued in frustrated confusion, "I don't understand you Pond women."

River looked down at the squirming infant, distracted momentarily, and the Doctor seemed to come to a false realization, "Oh! You were sad because you thought we had to give him up! Oh no, no, no River!"

He cut behind her, carefully wrapping his arms around her tense and trembling body as he leaned his chin on her shoulder. The gesture was meant to reassure her and comfort her, but it seemed to do none of those things. He ignored her lack of response, guaranteeing in a whisper meant to keep from disturbing the baby, "No, I can assure you, dear, we get to keep him."

River didn't let her body relax in his arms as he continued, looking softly down at his child, as he amended, "Sometimes we leave him with Amy and Rory, that's true, but that's only for adventures he isn't quite ready to go on. Are you worried because older you wasn't with me when I dropped him off? I can explain that. I was supposed to be giving you a holiday, Craig says mums need holidays sometimes, and so I made you go off on a little trip. So older you is on a daytrip with Martha to a spa or a mall or something and I probably shouldn't be giving you details, should I? Spoilers?"

His nose bumped her neck and she stepped quickly out of his arms, handing the baby to him without a word. He took him without question, once again surprised by her reaction to what he assumed would be a reassuring parable.

"What are you talking about, you aren't making sense." She cut out tersely, hands shaking. He realized she had given the baby to him because she was shaking too badly and must have feared she would drop him. Silly, silly Song.

The Doctor sighed exaggeratedly and the baby made a sound as he shifted him into one arm. The Doctor looked up at her with exasperation, done with guessing what the hell she was thinking. He walked carefully up to her, whisper yelling, "I'm trying to tell you that you don't have to worry about giving up your son, so you don't have to be sad! Hell, River, what is wrong?"

The change in her was immediate. She seemed to wither, falling down onto the mattress and clutching the sheets. A squeak of a question passed her lips, "My son? _What_?"

The Doctor suddenly felt uncomfortable and bounced slightly on his heels as he replied timidly, "You know... Ginger, adorable, your general facial structure, Rory's nose, in my arms...?" He used his free hand to point to the boy he held in his other arm.

"He's my son?" She sounded breathless.

The Doctor was starting to get the feeling River really didn't know it was her son. But that didn't make sense. Not to him. Who else's baby would he have with him? He didn't kidnap babies, goodness. Although, that might be a good idea. He rather liked babies. Especially his and River's baby. He smelt nice and his skin was really soft and his heart beats were really nice to hear and he felt really warm and he was adorable and yes. Well. He liked his baby quite a lot. He needed more babies. He would have to talk to River about that. Not this River, of course. She didn't make sense. His old River. No, no, not old. She would kill him for saying that.

He digressed, remembering he was supposed to be frustrated by stating the obvious, "Of course he's your son! Who else would he be?"

The thought vibrated off her. Amy and Rory's.

Oh. Oh. Oops. That was what she was thinking. That was why there was so much confusion. And he was quite ginger. But why was she sad? That, still, made no sense. But, slowly it seemed, he was starting to unravel her thoughts into a perceptible range.

And then the baby Time Lord began to cry. The Doctor jolted into attention, his thoughts quickly jumping to his son as he attentively rocked him, "Shhhhh. Shhh, daddy's here. And mummy, too! Yes, yes, of course it's mummy." He made a face at the now whimpering infant, responding to telepathic baby thoughts, "Well, maybe that's true. She smelt the same to me though."

The baby seemed appeased and cooed once before tranquilly staring up at his father.

He looked up at River with a smile, thinking she would understand it all by now. He only found that she had retreated from the mattress to the very corner of her cell, her arms wrapped around herself. Harsh tears threatened to stream down her face, and he sensed a sudden denial and subtle hate towards him.

"You're lying." She beat out, her voice broken. He stepped closer again, but she held her arm out in a way that was meant to tell him to stay back. She sounded wounded when she anxiously declared, "You're being cruel. This isn't fair, Doctor."

He stared, uncomprehending, with wide eyes. She continued in an almost angry whisper, "You can't say these things to me. You can't. I've lost everything, I've always lost everything. And you can't do this to me, can't throw the one thing that truly, truly hurts to lose – a family – in my face."

"What in the world are you talking about? River Song, you don't make an ounce of sense! I'm not being cruel. I wouldn't be cruel to you." He faltered on the last bit, hurriedly adding, "I would never _intentionally_ be cruel to you."

"Don't lie about that, anything but that." Her voice quickly escalated on the sentence. A small cry came from the baby, who was unhappy to hear her familiar voice raised in an angry way. River seemed to crumble at the sound and her shoulders fell, her face turning downwards with closed eyes. She waited a moment before opening them, not daring to look back at him or the child, "Oh god, Doctor, do you know how much I want that? My own little baby. Our baby."

She looked up, soft eyes on the bundle and then up to him with a barely contained fury, "So don't you dare joke about something like that, don't you dare mock me with wishes that will never come true."

"You think I'm _lying_? Why would I be lying? He's your son!"

"Rule one, the Doctor lies." She hissed, but then seemed to continue into her own thoughts, "You taught me that. I have no idea how you can be. I've been told so many things, read so much about you. In Berlin, you told me you loved River Song. But that was a lie to, wasn't it? And you were so nice on those trips we took while I was in university, so kind. So I know you're at least fond of me. And you married me. Why'd you do that? What was the purpose behind that? What were you trying to do? I don't know, I don't know."

He was about to break in, to tell her he was more than just fond of her, but she cut him off as she got to the point, "But this, Doctor, is a lie. The cruelest lie. He can't be. He can't be ours. It's impossible."

The Doctor was now slightly frustrated and angry. River was being hardheaded and slightly dim and endlessly, endlessly stubborn. And blind. River was usually so on top of things, so ahead of the game. Having her so uncomprehending was not amusing at all, especially when it had her fervently denying their son was their son and questioning whether he cared about her. He didn't like how she was denying him and how she didn't believe him. He knew this was a younger, unsure River, but this was unprecedented. And it hurt, a bit, that she didn't believe him about something so important. She should really know he would never dream of toying with her that way. It was hard to remind himself that this River didn't know yet.

He let out a frustrated growl and then forced a clipped smile. He waved free fingers at the baby, looking from his son to his wife, as he declared in exasperation, "Of course he is! He has two hearts, my god. Who else could make such a perfect child? And trust me, I was there. For all of it." He almost flushed, and continued quickly, "The, er, making and the finding out and the insane cravings and you breaking my hand when you delivered him. Definitely your child."

"No."

He stepped into her personal space before she could object, pressing the baby cradled safely in his arms into her chest, so she had to look at the child. So that she could see the undeniable truth. He leaned his forehead against hers, whispering desperately, "River, I'm not lying. Please, please believe me. I wouldn't lie about this. Surely you know that."

River moved a hand to touch the baby's chest, over a heart, but paused. She looked into the Doctor's eyes, old eyes, and begged quietly, "Prove it."

The Doctor shifted the baby into her arms and she accepted it slowly. He gently pressed his index finger to her forehead, imparting a small image of her cuddling a newborn and laughing. The image was palpably real, unmistakably real. River's breath caught as her eyes darted to the red-headed child, who, as if on cue, smiled cutely up at her.

"Why would I lie, River?" He pressed a kiss to her head, long fingers trailing her jaw line.

He immediately felt her continence tip, her mind doing a swift turn, and he could visibly see the change in her body. She seemed to melt, the tension draining, her eyes changed their character, and the pain etched on her face smoothed over. A slow, budding joy was filling her up, and he caught onto traces of amazed thoughts through the touch telepathy.

She believed him.

She understood.

_Finally._

The Doctor grinned, a small happy giggle escaping him as a grin split across her face. She looked down on the infant with new eyes, letting out a breathy laugh as she pressed butterfly kisses across his tiny hands and face. The boy clutched onto a curly lock of hair, giving it an experimental tug that she only laughed at.

"He's mine."

It was stated, not asked as a question, but the Doctor nodded quickly anyway as he watched her watching their child. "Yes."

She seemed lost in her own awe. He could see them looking at each other with renewed interest and he realized she must be catching snatches of baby thoughts when she suddenly sniffled back happy tears. Another joy-filled laugh bubbled over, filling the cold cell and echoing back, and the tiny baby kicked his feet and cooed at the sound, his own small giggle escaping as his tiny hands grasped for her.

River then looked up at him, eyes filled with love and delight, "And yours."

"I hope." He teased, his own grin mimicking hers as her straightened his bowtie.

She rolled her eyes at him, then admitted curiously, "I didn't think it was possible... We're not biologically compatible; you're a Time Lord. I'm only human-plus. I didn't think Time Lords even reproduced the same way as humans. I thought – "

He cut her off quickly, "Ah, but it _is _possible. And you do have quite a bit of Time Lord in you, River." He said it proudly, but blushed at her raised eyebrow, and continued in a stammer, "And it's, you know, very much the same. With the reproducing and stuff and all very human-y really, the way babies are made and er, yes. Right. Very much the same, I'd imagine. I think."

She took pity on him, stilling a laugh at his embarrassed rambling, "Oh? That _is _interesting."

He was glad to see River was back to normal, but also slightly appalled that she had shifted from upset to flirty so quickly. He motioned down to his son as if to remind her they weren't alone, spluttering out, "Oh, look how handsome our baby is! Yes, yes. Very ginger, wouldn't you say? Lucky boy. Got Rory's nose though, seems like. Hopefully that will wear off his next go around... oh, was that rude! No, no, no, love the Roman. But, you know..." he ran his finger down the length of his nose and made a face, "But he's got your eyes and bone structure! And Amy's hair! So that means he'll probably have my taste in hats and accessories and that will be lovely."

She ignored him, letting the tiny baby wrap his fingers over her thumb as she asked without looking at her new husband, "What's his name, Doctor?"

The Doctor opened his mouth to reply, then remembered how long it had taken them to decide on a name. River wasn't supposed to know that one, not just yet. She would have to work that one out with his past self, when the time came. He wouldn't take that away from her. Instead, he supplied with a noncommittal shrug, "Spoilers."

She accepted the term without arguing, beaming at the little smile her son offered her as he attempted to pull her thumb into his mouth. "I love him terribly."

"Me too." The Doctor said proudly, very pleased with this non-crying-and-happy River's reaction to his new favorite. He felt a sense of relief that she was so happy, now that they had sorted out the misunderstanding. He was glad she had wanted this, even early on, and that the idea of being a mother thrilled her. He felt a sense of accomplishment, that through all the bad, they had been able to have this very, very good piece of luck. It made it more okay that they were all back to front, that sometimes she had to sleep on a prison cot and someday – long after their son had grown up – she would have to go back to Stormcage for her days. That someday, maybe, she wouldn't be around. But no, no he would save her. Not to worry.

"Doctor..."She began, continuing in a tone which dripped with timid interest, "Did you want this? A family, again? With me?"

He hesitated, "Some things are so beautiful, River, that you don't even dare to dream of them. I could have never fathomed that this would happen, but if I could have, I would have wanted nothing more. This, our family, you and him; you two are everything. I have never, ever been happier. You have given me so much, River Song. So much more than I had hoped for, and so much more than I felt I deserved."

"And, Doctor..." River faltered, and then looked flustered. He sensed her unease at her next words, how speaking them made her feel weak. But she had to know. The question had been building since Berlin, and now it only burned brighter. She needed to hear it, "Do you love me, Doctor?"

He simply grinned, pressing a kiss to her lips and then mimicking a kiss on both sides of their child's face, "Always and completely."

"And... Two more questions. Doctor, why are you covered in soot? And why in the world do you smell like smoke?"

X . x . X.


End file.
